I don't know how I can do without
by Keira-House M.D
Summary: She knows her presence causes as much pain as it does pleasure, but what she really needs right now is the person who knows her best and does not judge … and that is Lord M. Set during 2x2. Victoria/Melbourne with background Victoria/Albert Companion piece to 'guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all'


**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the historical characters in Victoria nor do I own the TV series which was written by Daisy Goodwin. Any lines from the show are also not mine and are just borrowed from Daisy Goodwin and ITV Victoria. Any recognisable lines belong to Daisy Goodwin and the TV series.**

 **I usually prefer to write happy ending Vicbourne stories but last week's episode just gave me so many feelings about Lord M that I had to write this. There will hopefully be a return to happy endings soon.**

 **I tried not to Albert-bash, but I'm not hugely fond of his character in the show and there was a lot of conflict between him and Victoria in this episode, so this isn't a particularly Albert-friendly story.**

* * *

' _And I don't know how I can do without, I just need you now.'_

 _Need You Now – Lady Antebellum_

* * *

Victoria treasures her letters from Lord M. _  
_

In a world that seems increasingly preoccupied by her pregnancy (and then baby), and frequent arguments with Albert over her insistence on returning to her duties and a wish to postpone any further pregnancies, Lord M's letters are a breath of fresh air and a reminder of simpler times.

" _I was so happy before."_

" _I find that happiness can always be recollected in tranquillity, Ma'am."_

" _You were happy too?"_

" _You know I was."_

She loves Albert but sometimes she wishes for the days before the Coburgs arrived, when Lord M was her Prime Minister and life was so often like a happy dream filled with rides and conversations and smiles and the knowledge that she had by her side a clever, kind man who worked always in her best interests and was an immense support to her.

As he once told her, she can recollect those days if she has some tranquillity, but life seems so busy these days and she so rarely has time to just sit and remember.

Lord M does not come to London anymore and these letters are all she has of him now.

Sometimes she wonders if it is wrong to put so much stock in her correspondence with a man who is not her husband. But she and Lord M, they were never typical. And even now he is dear to her, so very dear.

Now, she thinks, she so badly wants to see him again.

She looks at the guest list in front of her, full of names she does not know, and pulls a fresh sheet of paper towards her to write a most important letter.

 _Dear Lord M, it's time for you to return to the palace._

* * *

" _Lord M, I'm so glad you could come."_

Victoria sees him and she feels she can breathe again.

The mathematicians, especially the striking Lady Lovelace, have made her feel nervous. Even just her brief conversation with them has made her feel like a spare part – she, the Queen of England! But mathematics is something she has never been taught much of, something she will never be able to teach to her daughter even if she wanted to.

But Lord M is familiar, part of a world she understands far more than the scientific community her husband so likes.

When he and Albert talk she is a little worried by the slightly tense undertone in their conversation. Nothing rude is said, of course, but it isn't quite what she would like.

When Albert is called away she realises, with a little guilt, that what she really desires is to talk to Lord M alone, as they once did so often.

"Tell me, Lord M, do you find me much changed?"

She hopes she does not betray her anxiety for his approval, but she feels it anyway and waits nervously for his reply.

"Only for the better, Ma'am," he answers with a small smile.

She smiles widely in return. Dear Lord M, how she has missed him.

The ballet is beautiful, the sort of entertainment she enjoys far more than a scientific conversation, and now she finds herself with Lord M, watching as Albert speaks animatedly with Lady Lovelace and Mr Babbage.

They talk of the lady mathematician and Victoria finds herself unreasonably pleased that Lord M is not at all enraptured with Lady Lovelace the way Albert seems to be.

"I think she looks rather pleased with herself," she notes, perhaps a little spitefully.

"In that respect she resembles her father," Lord M says, "he always looked as if every room belonged to him."

"Her father?"

"She's Byron's daughter, Ma'am … I thought you knew."

There is an awkward silence between them. Lord Byron is not a happy topic for poor Lord M, though he does his best to conceal his unease, and the knowledge that Lady Lovelace, though clearly of a scientific bent, is the daughter of a man who cavorted openly with other men's wives … with the wife of her dear Lord M … does not make her feel at all better about the situation.

The piece from Othello distracts her from thoughts of Lady Lovelace, and she gives her praise very enthusiastically to Mr Aldridge, whose performance was beautifully done.

But then her conversation with Lord M and Emma turns to the topic of jealousy and suddenly she has to get away, to see where Albert is.

She wanders the room, but is often distracted by greeting all the guests she passes and by the time she passes Lord M again nearly half an hour has passed.

"Are you alright, Ma'am?" he asks, concerned for her as always, "you look a little pale."

She forces a smile onto her face, "quite alright," she tells him, walking away swiftly before he realises she is lying.

She finds Albert, Lady Lovelace and Mr Babbage laughing together and tries to remember that she has seen nothing that should provoke jealousy within her.

But they talk so cleverly together and she cannot follow the conversation at all. She embarrasses herself with a misunderstanding involving pie of some sort and though Lady Lovelace appears to try and help her words only make Victoria feel more inadequate, more like an ignorant little schoolgirl.

She needs some quiet and so she slips out in the hall, to find uncle Leopold watching with a satisfied look on his face as Lord M walks slowly up the staircase, "uncle Leopold, is Lord M leaving?"

"I think he was feeling tired."

But the look on her uncle's face makes her think it is something more and she wonders if he has said something to Lord M to make him go.

She hurries forward, "Lord M!" she cries out, "were you going to leave without saying goodbye?"

"Well you were busy, Ma'am, and it's getting late."

"You used to be such a night owl," she reminds him.

"I used to be a lot of things, Ma'am," he tells her softly.

There is subtext in his words, a pain in his voice that makes her feel sad and guilty and wistful all at the same time.

"I hope you will stay in London, there are so many things I wish to discuss."

Because what she really wants is a day when they can be as they were. A day when he will smile at her attempts to get Dash to sit still for a portrait; when they will walk through the gardens and he will tell her funny stories about all the different flowers; when he will explain the history of England in that clever, interesting way of his that she loves; when they can just talk and laugh like they used to.

"No, No, I … I really must get back to Brocket Hall. It's orchid season, you know, and I find they are very demanding … Goodnight Ma'am."

She wants to protest against his words. Perhaps if they were alone, without uncle Leopold watching them carefully, or if he did not truly look so very tired, perhaps then she might have been more forceful in her wish for him to stay.

But she senses now that it would be a cruelty to order him not to return to Brocket Hall, and Lord M deserves nothing but kindness from her.

She thinks of him back at his greenhouse in Brocket Hall, carefully tending to the flowers he used to send to her so often. She wishes she could watch him there.

But she says nothing of her wishes. Instead she wishes him a good night and watches him go.

* * *

" _And whilst we are on the subject, Victoria, I feel I have to say I do not think it was suitable to invite him last night."_

" _He's no longer my Prime Minister."_

" _That is exactly my point."_

Victoria finds herself furious at Albert's words.

When Lord M was her Prime Minister she was constantly being told that she should not show so much favour to the Whigs and must be above politics. At every major event it was suggested that a number of high ranking Tory figures should attend, even though the Whigs were the ones in power.

Now that the Tories are in charge of the government it seems that no one wants her to see any Whigs at all! Even at this most recent soiree, an event for scientists and mathematicians where Victoria had so desperately needed someone on her side, someone whose conversation she did not need a dictionary to understand, they wanted to deprive her of such comfort.

Lord M is her friend, and it is so ungrateful of the Tories and Albert to wish him away when he always took such pains, even when they vexed him, to persuade her that the Tories were not all bad and that she should give Albert a chance.

Besides, she and Lord M do not discuss politics now. Of course he made it interesting in a way Sir Robert never does, but Lord M's most valuable gift to her has always been his unwavering support, his belief in her and his easy way of making her feel better.

And Albert wants to taint that, to make Lord M out to be some opportunist out to grab influence and power, acting as if her dear friend is like Sir John Conroy was. It is insufferable to Victoria and she will not stand for it.

"Are you jealous he makes me smile?" she asks after a moment, angry and wanting to hurt Albert.

"What would I have to be jealous about?" asks Albert, blissfully unaware of her uneasy thoughts that the answer is rather a lot, that Lord M has a part of her heart that even her husband can never touch.

"Lord Melbourne may be retired," Albert continues, "but he is nevertheless a Whig and you are supposed to be above politics."

"There is nothing political about it," she insists, "I enjoy his company, just as you enjoy Lady Lovelace's."

"Lady Lovelace is a highly intelligent woman who is doing the most remarkable work."

"And what am I then?" she cries out, "an ignoramus who has to have things summarised by her husband."

She is not just irritated now, but hurt as well. She remembers what she shouted at Albert not too long ago.

" _At least Lord Melbourne treated me as an equal."_

Is it so hard for Albert to do the same, to remember that she ruled quite well on her own before he came along?

But Albert does not even try to defend himself, only says that he is going to the annual dinner for the Statistical Society. A dinner where Lady Lovelace will surely be present, despite Albert's protestations that he has no idea who the guests will be.

"Albert … I don't want you to go to dinner."

"Is that a command?"

Has it really come to this? They have been married a year and already it feels so difficult. She once told Lord M that she had not seen many happy marriages, but she was always determined that her own would not be another one.

Yet right now all there is between she and Albert is a loaded silence and a resentful air.

He leaves.

Dinner is awkward.

Ernest asks after Albert and she tries to answer without giving away how discomposed she is. Her uncle Leopold tries to smooth things over but she will not have it, not when it too often seems that Leopold is on Albert's side over her own.

In the end she cannot bear it, choosing to flee to the balcony just to escape their looks.

"Can I get you anything, Majesty?" asks Lehzen.

She cannot hold in her feelings anymore and sobs burst forth.

"Lehzen, I can't bear it … I should be pleased, I know … oh I feel like I'm going to prison."

Lehzen holds her close, hugs her as she did so often when Victoria was a child.

And Victoria keeps sobbing.

She tries to tell him about the baby later, in an embarrassing series of messages that never come back with the answer she wants.

If Albert had returned, had listened and understood and sympathised, then all would have been well.

But he does not. He dismisses her requests as childish and stays at his dinner, while she wonders when it all went wrong with the husband she was so sure she would never argue with.

Victoria lies in bed that night, clinging to Dash and refusing to answer Albert when he knocks.

She does not know what to do.

* * *

The next morning she refuses to see Albert or uncle Leopold. She even avoids mama, who will only take Albert's side.

It is only when she receives a delivery from Brocket Hall with three perfect orchids that she realises what to do.

Emma is enlisted for her unmarked carriage and the fact that she is the only one of Victoria's ladies who really understands why she needs to go to Brocket Hall.

Maybe she is making a mistake, for she knows her presence causes as much pain as it does pleasure, but what she really needs right now is the person who knows her best and does not judge … and that is Lord M.

* * *

She follows the butler's directions, leaves Emma and Lord Alfred outside, takes a deep breath and enters the greenhouse.

"Close the door," Lord M calls out, clearly assuming she is the butler or another servant.

She stays quiet for a few moments, just watching him in this place where he seems so comfortable and at peace. It is magnificent, truly like nothing she has yet had the chance to see.

"You have created your own Eden, Lord M."

He lifts his head and turns round quickly at the sound of her voice, "yes, it is something of a refuge, Ma'am."

He seems a little flustered and she smiles slightly because it reminds her of the time she had unexpectedly visited him at Dover House.

She looks around and her gaze stops on the oddest thing, "what a peculiar looking plant."

"Well, yes. It's the Venus Fly Trap, Ma'am," Lord M tells her.

He demonstrates the plant's properties and she looks on with surprise as the leaf closes around the fly.

"Why would anything so deadly be named after the goddess of love?" she asks him.

"I wonder," he says, almost as if to himself.

She senses there is more to his answer that he is not sharing, but she does not want to push him, not when she has invaded his sanctuary unannounced seeking his counsel.

"Perhaps you'd allow me to show you my collection," he says.

She nods and he leads her around, showing her everything and explaining what each plant or flower can do and how it got its name. She asks questions and he answers them enthusiastically, showing a true understanding and a deep love of what he does in the greenhouse.

Meanwhile, she tries to find the courage to speak with him about what is bothering her.

It takes a while for her to find the right words, but she finds that she does not mind. It is nice, listening to Lord M speak – she has always loved to hear him talk, especially about a subject he so clearly enjoys.

Eventually, during a break in Lord M's explanations about his specimens, she tells him she has come to ask his advice.

"I am no longer in politics, Ma'am," he reminds her gently, "it would be wrong for me to advise you."

"That's not the kind of advice I need. I want to talk to you about … marriage."

He snorts sadly, "well, there too, I'm hardly qualified."

"We'll, I've come to you, nevertheless."

And then she tells him. As the heat of the greenhouse pushes her to take off her hat and gloves she explains the difficulty of reconciling her roles as Queen and wife, her worry about Albert's ambitions, and her fears about his reasoning for wishing them to have a large family.

Lord M seems to consider her worries for a moment before he answers her, "do you remember when you asked for the title of King Consort for the Prince?"

She nods and tries to recollect his words, "… you said that once people got into the way of making kings they would get into the way of unmaking them."

"Yes, well there was another reason. I did not want you to be overshadowed, Ma'am. Yes, the Prince is your husband but you are the Queen."

Oh Lord M, dearest Lord M who has always looked after her.

"He thinks he would do it better," she says.

"Well he wouldn't be the first man to underestimate a woman, would he?"

She wants to smile at his words, but she is still concerned, "he's so able. There are so many things I've never been taught."

And never, she thinks, has she felt this lack of education more keenly than she has these past few days.

"Knowledge is not wisdom, Ma'am. You have an instinct for what you must hold on to."

"I find it hard," she admits, "the other evening when Albert was talking to Lady Lovelace about decimal places he looked so happy."

"Oh come now, aren't such suspicions beneath you?" he chides her softly, "besides, if a man is intent on flirtation then in my experience he does not tend to resort to mathematics."

She laughs, because even when she's worried and hurt he can still make her smile, "I've missed you, Lord M, you always know how to make me feel better."

"Well I'm glad to hear it," he tells her.

They share a look between them of understanding, of the knowledge that not even time and a husband and family can fully erase what they once were.

The words _I will never forget_ hang between them.

And then Victoria suddenly feels too warm and stands quickly, "I think I need some air."

"Yes it is very hot in here."

"I fear it is more than that," she tells him, and sees his widened eyes and nod of realisation.

He takes her hands in his and she feels so safe, "you are the sovereign, Ma'am. We are your subjects. Whatever trials you may endure, nothing will ever change that."

She smiles.

She loves her husband, but as Victoria walks out of the greenhouse, with a lighter heart and a more settled mind, she wonders if Albert will ever understand her the way Lord M does.

* * *

Her good mood does not last.

"When were you going to tell me?" Albert asks her later that day.

"Tell you what?"

He gestures towards her stomach.

Her voice comes out angry, all her earlier resentment chasing away the calm that Lord M had helped bring, "well I tried to tell you last night, but you ignored my messages."

"You should have made it clearer."

"Well you should have come back when I asked," she counters, sick of him refusing to believe that he was at all in the wrong, "instead you left me at home with your father and uncle Leopold."

It goes downhill from there.

He brings up her visit to Brocket Hall and continues to insist that she should not be speaking with Lord M. Victoria counters with accusations about his visits to the Royal Society and, though she does not say her name, Lady Lovelace.

She knows that perhaps she is wrong, that she may be seeing something that is not there. But she is just so livid that he cannot even seem to understand why she might be upset.

In the end she huffs and turns her back on him.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"I need to get out of this corset. I need to breathe."

She storms away from him, knowing that this will be another night that his knocks on her door (if they even come) will be unanswered.

She wants to be happy with Albert again, like they were not so long ago, but nothing seems easy anymore.

Later that night she writes to Lord M. It seems she needs his advice once more.

* * *

" _Excuse me, Your Majesty."_

" _This came for you, Ma'am, by the last post."_

She takes the letter and shuts the nursery doors, recognising the handwriting immediately and wanting privacy to read her letter.

He writes well, as always, and she can almost hear the comforting sound of his voice as she reads his advice to her.

She is sorry he will not come to London. She enjoyed seeing him at the ball but she wishes she had the opportunity to have a more private talk with him, at a time when her mind is not so worked up over the discovery of her pregnancy and her worry about Albert.

He gives good advice, but then she expects nothing less from Lord M. She sees that she has been a little foolish over Lady Lovelace and is relieved to see Lord M's words on Albert.

 _The Prince is a man of great understanding. He knows, I am sure, that his work is to support you, not supplant you._

 _I would wager the contents of my orchid house on the Prince's devotion to you alone._

One of the earlier lines in his letter worries her a little, though.

 _I fear you will be disappointed, but I am not the one to help you now._ _You must look to the future._

Why does it feel like Lord M is saying goodbye?

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.**


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